To Everything, There is a Season
by Tabitha12
Summary: BY MARY AND AMANDA Jonathan tries to help out his new friend, with more than surprising results. Set in the From This Day On Universe.


_**Disclaimer: The characters from 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir' belong to 20th Century Fox and David Gerber productions. No infringement is intended, no profit is made, and the characters will be returned unharmed from whence they came. This story is for enjoyment only. All other characters, plots, story lines and development of GAMM characters belong to the authors and may not be used or changed without express written permission. Set in the **__**From this Day On Universe,**__** after **__**The Best Laid Plans**__**. We do not own GAMM or its denizens. **_

**To Everything, There is a Season**

Amanda and Mary

September, 1971

"Captain..." Carolyn began, frowning at the yellowed sheet of paper she held in her hand. "Can you make out _what_ this word is? I cannot decipher Dash's writing in this section." Her publisher had been delighted with the idea of doing a whole series of books about Daniel Gregg's crew. Contrary to what Sean Callahan the Fourth had said the year before, an English nobleman who had chosen to live as a 'commoner' on the high seas had appealed to the powers that be. The only drawback was that they would really like the book to have been written yesterday or the day before yesterday, even, it went without stating, Carolyn Muir felt pressured, to say the least, and she wasn't sure if the kids starting school again that day would prove to be helpful or not.

The ghost plucked the sheet of paper from her hands and peered at it, turning it upside down, and then right side up again. "Hmm. By the date, I see it was written after a storm we encountered in the Bering Sea; Dash's hand got tangled in a line and he was forced to write with his left one for some days while it healed."

"I'm sure it's a fascinating story, but I can't read whether it is or not!" Carolyn sighed.

"I'll just pop over to Skeldale and see if Adam can read his employer's scrawl better than we can," Daniel said. "I'll be right back."

No sooner had he vanished than the back door opened — letting Jonathan and another little boy inside, emphasis on "little." Carolyn could not place the boy's face, and he looked at least a year younger than her son.

"Hi, Mom! This is Billy, he just moved here over the summer and he's in my class," Jonathan beamed. "His family rents a cottage near Mr. Hampton's from Cl... Mister Gregg. Is it okay if he plays here today?"

"Nice to meet you, Billy. Is it all right with your mother if you are over here?" Carolyn asked with a smile. _Jonathan must love not being the smallest kid in his class for once, _she thought, getting a closer look at the boy. He was least a half a head shorter than her son.

"Yes'm," Billy nodded. "She gave us a ride here, and when Jonathan invited me, she said she'd wait in the car to see if you said it was okay. So is it?"

"As long as you get your homework done, boys," Carolyn nodded. "Did Candy come with you?"

"She rode the bus so she and Tricia could jabber." Jonathan made a disgusted face. "Why'd she have to turn into a girl?"

"She was always a girl, Jonathan," Carolyn smiled. She had a feeling her daughter's interest in being a 'girl' might have something to do with having four exceptionally handsome men popping in and out constantly. "You two run along. I need to take a break anyway. Reading these old papers has made me cross-eyed, so I'll step out and tell your mother that I'll take you home after a while, Billy."

"Her name's Mrs. Lemoyne," the small child said helpfully.

"Thank you," Carolyn answered, and they ran out the door as Martha entered it.

"What was that whirlwind?" the housekeeper asked.

"Jonathan's new friend. I'm going out to let his mother know it's okay for him to stay here a while. Keep an eye out for... our friend to return. He's getting your 'boyfriend's' writing translated so I can meet my deadline. We don't want anyone to see him pop, if it can be helped."

"Right," Martha nodded.

Carolyn went out to meet the new lady in town. Billy's mother, Louise, seemed pleasant enough, and Carolyn could empathize more than a little bit with her feeling of being the newcomer in a small town. So, even though it could be tricky with the aforementioned ghosts tending to show up unexpectedly, she made it clear that Billy was welcome to come home with Jonathan any time.

By the time Carolyn returned to the kitchen, Daniel and Lord Dashire were occupying two of the seats at her worktable while Martha was folding laundry on the service porch. Dash was frowning at the sheets of paper that Daniel had taken with him.

"Good afternoon, Carolyn," the nobleman said, rising to bow. "I was visiting Adam when Danny popped in, so I came back to help; however I confess I can't for the... afterlife of me read my own blasted writing this time."

"You might want to change clothes, guys," Carolyn advised. "Jonathan has a guest."

"Perhaps we should just vanish?" Dash suggested.

"Nonsense, I've been wanting to practice changing my look," Daniel guffawed. "It's not that horrible Shoemaker boy, I hope?"

"No. It's a new boy in town. Billy Lemoyne."

"Never heard of that family," Daniel frowned.

"You wouldn't," Carolyn interjected. "I spoke to Billy's mother when she dropped the boys off. They just moved here from Delaware."

Right at that moment, from one direction, Martha emerged from the laundry porch, and from the other, Candy bounced in. "Hi, Captain Dad! Hey, Uncle Dash. Hi, Mom! Hi, Martha! Are Uncle Sean and Tris here too?" All this was said in one breath.

"No, dear girl, you'll have to settle for me," Dash smiled. "I'm just here because not your mother, the Captain, Adam, nor I can read my writing."

"You two better..." Martha began, glancing toward the living room.

"Carolyn told us," Daniel winked. A moment later, he was dressed in modern clothes with Dash following suit. Mrs. Muir wished she could talk them into that more often; they did look good in twentieth-century garb.

"Told you what? Can I see?" Candy asked, sticking out a hand toward the century-old papers.

So, again, Carolyn relayed the information that Jonathan had a guest.

"Yeah, I saw them having lunch together, " Candy nodded absently as she read. "This is easy." She rattled off what was written — a rant to Aislynn about how incompetent the blasted doctor was who'd set Dash's sprained thumb.

"All that trouble for nothing," Dash chuckled. "Thank you, Candy."

Before Carolyn could ask Candy how her first day of school was, the kitchen door swung open again. "Martha! I told Billy you make the bestest ever chocolate-chip-coconut-oatmeal cookies, and can we have some?" Jonathan blurted out, as the other boy trailed behind him.

"Who're you?" Billy asked, staring wide eyed at the two seamen. "Sorry, I just..."

"Quite all right, lad," Daniel smiled. "Charles and I are here to help Mrs. Muir work on a book about some of our... ancestors. I'm... Danny Alexander."

"Charles Dashire the..." Dash added, counting mentally to determine if any of his benighted relatives had retained the family name what number they'd be. "...Fifth," he guessed.

"Are you from England?" the boy asked.

"Once. Not lately, though. Martha, love, Jonathan has an excellent idea. Might I join the boys in cookies?"

"One day, you're going to turn into a cookie," she warned. "All right. ONE each. That goes for you, too, your lordship."

_Blast, _she hoped Billy hadn't caught that automatic _"your lordship."_

Sure enough, Billy's eyes lit up. "Lordship?" he inquired. "Are you a king, or something? Like in _Robin Hood _or _The Sword in the Stone?"_

Dash smiled. "No lad, Martha was... joking with me. I do love her cooking, and she obliges me so much I feel like a king, so once in a while she teases me about ordering her around... don't you, love?" The ghost gave Martha a soulful look.

"For that you may have TWO cookies," Martha grinned.

"Martha, you are a sucker when it comes to my friend's flattery." 'Danny' smiled at the housekeeper.

"Not at all," Martha sniffed, "But I do appreciate... appreciation!" She turned toward the counter and began pulling cookie ingredients out of the cupboard. "But I won't get them done if I don't get started."

"Speaking of getting started..." Carolyn glanced at her son and his new friend. "Have you boys started your homework? Or did you have any? I know this is only your first day."

The boys looked at each other, guiltily, and Billy's face turned slightly red.

"W-e-l-l..." Jonathan drew the word out. "Yes we do, but not exactly... you see..."

"Don't exactly have homework, or haven't exactly started working on it?" Daniel surveyed their faces.

"It's my fault," Billy began. "It's just that..." He turned to Carolyn. "Jonathan was ready to start, but I wanted to see his room, and then we started looking at his models, and then he was telling me about how to tie a sheep-shank knot, and then..."

"...And then we were talking about fishing and all the picnics and fishing we did this summer with Sean and Dash and Tris and you, Ca..."

"I understand," Carolyn interrupted, hastily. "_Danny, _Dash and I still have some work to get done before supper, too, and we have plenty of time before dinner is ready, so, you best get started."

"What did Miss Drew assign you, Jonathan?" Candy interrupted. "When I was in your grade, Miss Stoddard just gave us the usual '_What Did You Do Over Summer Vacation,'_ so I was kind of wondering."

"That's it," the boys said together.

"They ask it every year," Jonathan shrugged. "Teachers need to figure out a new question."

"Maybe they don't have any new ones," Billy answered. "At least we know what's coming."

"Yeah, but it's not like I took notes all summer!" Jonathan protested. "Gee, Billy, at least you can talk about moving here. That's something new, and a little different."

"Well, you won't know what you will come up with until you get started," 'Danny' said, as he gave Jonathan a pat on the back and Billy's hair a tousle. "So hoist the anchor, mates."

Candy sighed from her chair. "Yeah, I guess. You're lucky, you guys. I'd rather do an essay. I have two pages of math to do." She shrugged. "Well, if I want to get it done before dinner I better hurry. Tricia said she would be calling later and we have stuff to talk about." She started for her room.

Jonathan rolled his eyes at his friend. "See, I told you... all she does is talk on the phone... well, at least she's not all gaga over Mark what's-his-name anymore."

Candy slugged her brother on the arm as she passed him. "Jonathan, you are such a... BOY. That was simply AGES ago! I know what REAL guys look like, now, anyway."

"Wasn't either!" Jonathan poked Billy in the ribs. "But it seemed like AGES until she started acting like my sister again!"

"Enough, you two," Carolyn smiled. "Back upstairs. Homework, remember?"

"But, Mom..." Jonathan started, and then thought better of it.

"You heard the boss," Daniel smiled, and Dash nodded his head also.

"I'll bring some cookies up as soon as they're ready," Martha added, already measuring ingredients into a bowl.

"Okay," Billy nodded. "C'mon, Jon, we'll think of something. Might as well get it out of the way." Together, the two boys started moving toward the stairs.

Daniel lifted his eyebrows. "Jon? And when did Jonathan become Jon?"

"Today, it would seem." Carolyn looked after her son.

XXX

Jonathan sat on the bed and stared at the blank piece of paper on the notepad in front of him and allowed his mind to wander. _Arithmetic would be easier than this_. He glanced at Billy, who was seated at the desk, alternately writing and erasing.

_Boy, I'd love to write what REALLY happened this summer!_ Jonathan mused, doodling a ship at the top of the paper_. I have LOTS of neat stories even without talking about any more skeletons — great ghosts, or otherwise. I got to go fishing with FOUR ghosts. The Captain is trying out new faces, and Mom keeps saying she is dating the seventh fleet, whatever that means. Uncle Sean and Dash pop in and out all the time. We all got to go camping on the beach... and oh, yeah, Martha's going to swat Tristan if he doesn't stop sitting on the ceiling, or the top of the breakfront, or whatever else he can find to perch on. I wish I could do that! _The boy sighed_. But I can't write any of that unless Miss Drew asks us to write a make-believe story._

Billy looked up from his station at the desk. "Not going good?" he asked. "I'm having problems, too."

Jonathan shook his head. "Yeah, lots of stuff happens around here, summer or not. And there's stuff I can't really..." He stopped short of saying "talk about," knowing that statement could raise even more questions he couldn't answer. "...Write in only two pages," he finished. "What about you? How are you doing?"

"I have about a page," the other boy answered. "It's hard to make moving sound interesting, and that was the BEST thing we did this summer... mostly." He broke off then and looked at his new friend. "Why are you having trouble? You have tons of stuff you can write about."

"What?" Jonathan asked, bewildered.

"All the stuff you TOLD me about, today," Billy responded, promptly. "You know, your models, and fishing and digging for clams, and finding that sea cave, and learning how to carve driftwood and, all those things."

"But..." Jonathan stopped again. "...I did the same things as every other kid around here this summer. We didn't even go to Philadelphia this year. Our grandparents, all four of them, went on one of those England and Ireland tour things."

"You told me you and that lord guy and the Captain... is that the other guy I met downstairs? Mister Alexander? Built a raft," Billy pointed out. "I bet not everyone did that, 'Cause if they did, they would have told you, and nobody did, so that means they haven't, right?"

"Right," Jonathan grinned, and started scribbling on the tablet in front of him. "I think I see what you mean."

"Jon, do you think...?" Billy stopped.

"Huh?"

"I was wondering, do you think you can teach me some of the stuff you were telling me about? You know, the fishing and rafts and things? My Dad is cool, but he works a lot. He's a salesman, and he has to travel for his business. I love him, but he's not really good at things I want to know more about."

"Why, sure!" Jonathan's answer was immediate. "I know Cap... that is, Mister Alexander and lo... Mister Dashire would be glad to show you what they showed me. It might take a while though, and you will have to practice. A lot! Those two get really picky when they are teaching you things. There's a difference, between the stuff they teach and school, though," he grinned.

"What's that?" Billy asked, staring at his half-finished paper on the desk.

"The stuff they teach, you WANT to learn, not HAVE to learn," Jonathan grinned.

Martha knocked on Jonathan's bedroom door, and that ended their discussion at that moment. After pronouncing the cookies "scrumptious," the boys fell to finishing the rest of their homework in earnest, and the rest of the afternoon flew by. And no one was surprised at all when Jonathan asked if his new friend could stay for supper.

XXX

That first afternoon set a pattern for the coming weeks and months. Virtually every afternoon, either Billy was at Gull Cottage or Jonathan was at Billy's house. As time passed, Billy met Sean and Tristan as well. To Martha's delight, the presence of a non-family member in the house meant that Tristan had to stay off the ceiling and other lofty perches, at least part of the time. When Halloween came, there was no blizzard, so Billy and Jonathan went out together, garbed as Batman and Robin. As the weeks went by, Jonathan passed on as much of the seamen's lore as possible, with occasional help from whichever ghost was around. Billy accepted the ghosts as regular people, boosting Daniel's confidence of his ability to pass as mortal tremendously. The little boy did seem to tire easily, beginning when the weather got cold, so there were times when he and Jonathan simply listened to the spirits tell about their 'ancestor's' exploits; if one of them was being interviewed at the time, or Tristan giving Candy a music lesson when he stopped in to take a 'coffee break' from Elroy.

Gull Cottage and everyone in it fascinated Billy. For her part, Carolyn was grateful that having this new friend kept Jonathan from being hurt as his sister began to grow up and wanted to be more of a girl and less one of the guys. Billy was around so much that Sean noted once they'd have to be careful not to get so used to him that they slipped up and acted like specters around him. The only significant 'holiday' that Billy didn't participate in that autumn was the anniversary of the Muirs coming to Gull Cottage. It was hard to believe that only a year ago, Sean and come into their lives and Daniel had learned to be corporeal most of the time.

On the last day of school before the Christmas break, Candy came home excited to be away from school for "two whole weeks." Jonathan was a bit more subdued. Granted, he was as eager as his sister for their first Christmas with the Captain's crew there, and the fact that Adam Pierce and Fontenot had both accepted their mother's invitation to come over on the twenty-fifth was something to look forward to also. However, his new best friend was going out of town for the Christmas break, so that dampened Jonathan's holiday joy considerably.

XXX

The normal course of events was for the kids to be grumpy on January third — the day they started school again after the long winter break. Candy lived up to just that, but Jonathan seemed more eager for it than Christmas. However, when he returned home, the boy was downcast.

"What is wrong, mate?" Daniel asked.

"Billy was out sick today," the boy replied glumly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," the spirit replied. "But, influenza... the flu has been going around. 'Tis the season, you know. There was an article about it only last week in the paper, and..."

Jonathan shook his head. "Nobody gets sick after vacation. You just wish you were so you won't have to go back to school." He looked thoughtful. "And even that isn't true, not really. Not with Billy. Billy LIKES school. He was telling me right before Christmas how happy he was that he hadn't been sick once since school started. He was PROUD of it."

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about," the Captain soothed him. "These things happen. But if you want any help, or someone to talk over your assignments with, I am still quite happy to help you."

"Thanks, Captain." Jonathan looked at him, relieved. "I'd like that. We haven't done that in a while, have we? Not really, I mean." His face brightened. "Maybe Billy is feeling better by now. I could call him, and tell him what our assignments are, too. We can do them on the phone, and..."

The seaman shook his head. "That's probably not a good plan, Jonathan. If Billy isn't feeling well enough to go to school when he loves it so, more than likely he is asleep, or, at the very least, incapable of holding a telephone conversation, let alone do homework. Remember when you had your last cold? You didn't want to talk to anyone. I think it would be best if you didn't call. Let's wait a day or two. Then, if you still haven't heard anything, we'll find out what the problem is and how we can help."

"Okay," Jonathan shrugged. "I guess so. Still more fun with him around, though. Thanks for wanting to help me, Captain. How are you at fractions? That's what we're working on right now, and I just don't see what they're good for."

The seaman smiled. "I'm a whiz at fractions, Jonathan. And you'd be surprised at how often you will need to know about them."

The boy stared at the man he considered to be his father. "Really? When?"

"Well, for cooking, for openers," the Captain stated.

Jonathan made a face. "Cooking? Martha does that. And Candy is learning, and Mom makes dinner when she has to, but... for boys?"

"There are no guarantees in your life that there will always be a woman around to do that for you," the seafarer said gravely. "Trust me, I know. Not to mention... have I ever told you about the time I made one little mistake and nearly..." He paused. "First things first. Fractions." He slapped the boy lightly on the back. "Now... no more stalling... let's get to it, me-bucko. I'm sure Billy will be better in a few days."

XXX

Another two days went by and still Billy did not show up at school, and it didn't take a ghost to see that Jonathan was more than a little worried. Wednesday afternoon, right before the bell rang, Amanda Drew looked over the sea of faces in the classroom and her eyes settled on the Muir boy. "Jonathan?"

No answer.

"**Jonathan?"**

He pulled himself out of his distracted state. "Yes, Miss Drew?"

"I'd like you to stay after class for a few minutes, if you would."

The boy looked at her in surprise. _What did I do now?_ He thought. _Surely..?_ "Yes, Miss Drew." He tried not to sound panicked.

The bell rang at that moment, and the boys and girls started to gather their books and papers together.

"Class dismissed," the teacher announced. "Don't forget you have a math quiz on Friday. I suggest you read over chapters ten and eleven and review the story problems again before then."

"_Muir's in tr-o-o-o-u-u-ble,"_ Danny Shoemaker hissed as he went by_. "That's what you get for daydreaming in class! Old Lady Drew is gonna give you extra homework, just watch!"_ He was out the door a moment later, the teacher staring after him, shaking her head. She turned toward Jonathan. A smile on her face.

"M-Miss Drew..." Jonathan began. "I-I'm really sorry... I didn't mean to not pay attention, it's just than I've been thinking about a lot of stuff lately, and I... I kinda got distracted and I really didn't mean to not be listening, but, please, I don't want to be in trouble, so..."

"Jonathan, I..." The teacher started, but the boy plunged ahead.

"Please? I'll be better, I promise. It's just that I was thinking about... other stuff, that's all."

"Jonathan..." She tried again. "Jonathan, I'm not upset with you, and I'm not going to punish you, or give you extra homework, despite what Danny Shoemaker said."

Jonathan turned red. "You HEARD him?"

"Yes."

"Miss Drew, I don't think you are an old lady," Jonathan said quietly. "You aren't, and you're nice."

The teacher chuckled. "You don't have to butter me up, Jonathan. I told you. You aren't in trouble."

The boy looked puzzled again. "Then why did you make me stay after school?"

She smiled. "Actually, I need a favor."

The relief was evident on his face. "A favor?" he nodded. "Sure, Miss Drew."

"Jonathan, didn't I see you ride your bike to school today?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, I did... you need to borrow it, or something? You can, or if you need an errand, I can do that for you, too. Just tell me, and I'll..."

"No... Nothing like that. It's not a big favor, Jonathan," the woman continued. "Just something I thought you could do for me and enjoy doing. You see, Mrs. Lemoyne called me today, and..."

"Mrs. Lemoyne!" A big smile came to Jonathan's face. "Billy! How is he? He must be feeling better. Will he be coming back to class tomorrow?"

Miss Drew shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Mrs. Lemoyne said he still isn't feeling well, but he should be better soon, and she wants me to drop off his schoolwork to him. Unfortunately, I have a teachers' meeting this afternoon, and since you have your bike, and are going home that way, anyway, I thought you wouldn't mind taking him..."

"_Mind..." _A sunburst appeared on Jonathan's face. "Miss Drew, I'd LOVE to!"

XXX

The short distance to Billy's house flew by; Jonathan had never pedaled so fast. He didn't even feel the January chill. Arriving at his friend's house, Jonathan parked his bike, ran up the walk and was soon ringing the doorbell eagerly. It was opened a few moments later.

"Hi, Mrs. Lemoyne!" he said exuberantly, "I brought Billy's schoolwork over. Is he up? Can I see him? Will he be back at school—?"

"Shh," Louise cautioned him. Worry and fatigue had cut lines in her face, aging her prematurely. "Billy's resting, Jonathan." She hesitated. "Come on in."

Something was wrong. A feeling of dread pricked down Jonathan's spine.

A tired voice called out, "Mama? Did I hear Jonathan?"

"Billy, I thought you were sleeping!" his mother fretted.

"Couldn't… can I see him? Please?"

Billy's voice sounded weak, but he didn't sound all stopped up or hoarse, like someone with a cold.

Again, Mrs. Lemoyne hesitated, and then she nodded and led Jonathan to the downstairs guest room.

"Did Billy get a new room?" Jonathan asked, puzzlement written on his mien.

"Sort of," she replied a bit tersely as she opened the slightly ajar door completely. "Look who's here, Billy."

Jonathan stepped inside. Billy was propped up in bed. Why was he lying down in the middle of the afternoon? It looked like his friend had... shrunk in the last three weeks. He'd never had much weight to lose, but he was paler and thinner. Still, a bright smile lit his face. "Hi, Jon! Sit down."

Uncertainly, Jonathan took a seat on the hard chair nearest the bed.

"I'll leave you two to visit — but, Jonathan, I'm not being mean — not all afternoon, okay? Billy needs his rest," Mrs. Lemoyne said.

"I won't stay long," Jonathan promised, turning back to look at his friend. After his mother pulled the door shut behind her, he added, "We've really missed you, Billy. It's been lonesome without you. Almost as bad as when…" he broke off abruptly. He'd almost said _as bad as when the Captain was gone learning to be a better ghost_. "I hope you'll be back soon," he covered.

"I hope so, too," Billy sighed.

"What's wrong? Do you have the flu or something? Chicken pox?"

"No, nothing catchin'," Billy admitted, staring at the coverlet. "But if you don't want to be my friend, I'll understand... I have cancer, Jonathan. Leukemia. It's something to do with having too much white blood. I've had it before, but it went away. Now it's back. You can't catch it, but where I used to live, they thought that it was contagious."

"I don't care if it is," Jonathan said loyally. "I'd have it with you, if it'd help." He was sure that if Sean, Dash, or even Tristan had some ghost bug, the Captain would have it with them if it'd help them feel better.

"Thanks, but you can't, and you don't want it," Billy smiled wanly. Reluctantly, he admitted, "People die from this."

"What?" Jonathan gasped. That was wrong. Billy was just a little kid, like him. His grandfather was really old and he was still alive, so a kid couldn't die yet. He ignored the fact that he knew Tristan had died pretty young, but that was an accident, like the Captain's, and besides, he was still way older than Billy.

"But I'm not going to," Billy said with determination. "I've had remission before, and I can do it again, it just takes a while. And, Jon, it gets kinda gross. I have to take chemotherapy, and it makes me sick sometimes, and my hair falls out, too."

"So, you'll look like Kojack?" Jonathan frowned. "He's cool. You'll be cool too. Cooler."

There was a soft knock. "Jonathan, Billy really needs to rest now."

"Okay. I'll see you soon, Billy," Jonathan promised. As he walked out the front door, Mrs. Lemoyne stopped him. "Thanks, Jonathan. You're a good friend to my son."

"Can I come see him again?" Jonathan asked anxiously.

Her lips thinned as she considered. "Yes. You might want to call first. He has good and bad days."

"Okay." Jonathan waved at her, and then pedaled home. When he reached Gull Cottage, Candy was already working on her homework. After stopping to pet Scruffy, Jonathan found his mom. "I'm sorry to be late, Mom. I stopped to drop off Billy's homework."

Carolyn looked up from the reading over the notes Dash had left in regard to the last chapter she'd written. "You aren't that late. I'm glad you got to see him. Is he better?"

Jonathan's face twisted in thought. "Not really. Mom, what's leukemia? Billy told me it was about blood, but what is it?"

Carolyn dropped her pen. _Dear Lord_. "Is that what's wrong?"

"Uh huh. What is it?"

"It's a very bad disease. It means he has more white cells in his blood than he should." Carolyn kept her voice controlled. Her heart ached for the little boy and his parents, and for her own son. He was so young to face death. She knew Candy could remember her father's death, but had been grateful at that at least one child had very little, if any memory of that terrible time.

"Why is that bad?" Jonathan persisted.

"I really don't know," she answered. Maybe she should visit Dr. Avery, she seemed like a very nice woman, and get more information about this disease. "But I'll try and find out."

Jonathan seemed content with that, and announced he would go do his homework. However, he made a detour, seeking out any of the ghosts.

He found Daniel in the wheelhouse. "Captain?" he asked in a squeaky voice.

"Afternoon, lad. More fractions you need help with?" the ghost smiled.

"No, sir. I was wondering, did it hurt when you died?"

_This was something new_. "No, I don't think it did, except for my toe, from kicking the blasted heater with my blasted foot. Why do you ask?"

"Billy might die. But that's not right, is it? Kids shouldn't die."

Daniel felt in as deep waters as he had when Candy had hit him with dating questions. "No, son, it's not, but it does happen. Neither Sean nor I was all THAT old when we passed on, and I believe Tristan was only twenty-three."

"But that's still way older than ten!" Jonathan insisted.

"Yes, it is," Daniel had to admit. "It is." He paused. "Jonathan, what is all this? What's happened to Billy?" The boy was silent for a moment. "Jonathan?" The seaman insisted. "Lad, please tell me what is happening."

"Billy is sick," the boy mumbled.

"So you said." His answer was immediate. "But, come now, what's all this talk about dying?" Daniel put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, and propelled him in the direction of the love seat. "Lad, come. Talk to me."

Silently, Daniel listened to what had transpired that afternoon.

"So you see, that's what's been wrong with him over Christmas and since he came back," Jonathan concluded. "Captain, he's going to be okay, isn't he? He isn't going to..." the boy gulped. "He can't die yet, can he?"

The seaman pondered the question. Based on what he had learned about diseases and the like over the last hundred years, he was not ignorant of such things, and, certainly, cancer was not unknown, even in his day. But what to tell a child who was faced with the idea of losing a friend?_ Forever?_

He sat down on the love seat next to the boy. "I wish I could say Billy won't die, but, Jonathan, death comes to people of all ages. Even babies die."

Jonathan's hope that his hero could make it all okay again with a word or two fizzled. Still, he persisted. "Can you — you know — just look at him and tell me if he's going to be okay? He went into re-remission before — could he again? Maybe?"

Tugging his ear, Daniel had to confess. "Billy well could recover. I really am not an expert on cancer, son. He might not. I couldn't tell just by looking at him, or talking to him. That is not something ghosts are given to know."

The boy's shoulders shook slightly. "I thought you guys knew all this stuff. About dying, I mean."

The seaman gave the boy a sad smile. "Alas, Jonathan, I do not. I certainly didn't know that Tris was going to die, or Sean. I was still alive then. And I definitely didn't know I was going to kick the heater when I did. With Dash, yes, I could tell because he could already see ghosts, and he was very old for the time, as well as ill. Some people can, you know. But with Billy, it's really too early to know what might happen — especially when, as you told me, Billy has beaten the cancer once before. There is every chance he will beat it again and all your worrying and such will have been for nothing. I'm sure your friend wouldn't want to see you this upset."

Jonathan's squared his shoulders. "No... I guess not. He said he wants to get better. But he said he has to take treatments, and that the treatments kill the cancer but make him feel sick, and that he may look kind of gross for a while and lose his hair and stuff and be bald, like Kojack. I've never seen any bald people before, Captain."

The seaman pinched the bridge of his nose and thought for a moment. _I would have given anything for this lad not to be faced with something like this, so young, _he thought.

"Jonathan, you like Billy right?"

The boy was dumfounded for a moment "Of _COURSE_ I do, Captain! He's my best friend! We're like... almost like brothers, except we never signed an oath in blood or anything..." He stopped. "Captain, you're my best friend, too, and you were first, but Billy's my age and..."

Daniel gave the boy a fond look. "I understand, about friends, lad. We all have different kinds of best friends. You have Billy and me, and there will be others, and I have you and Sean and Dash and Tristan. And by the way, I don't think Billy's mother would have approved of a blood oath, or yours either, even before Billy's disease coming back. But, lad, you aren't afraid of being around him, are you? You do know that you can't catch cancer... the way you can catch a cold, or the flu, don't you?"

Jonathan nodded again. "Of course not, Captain. I knew that, but Billy mentioned it, too. He said some people think you can, but I think that's pretty stupid. You can't catch cancer any more than you can catch a broken leg."

"Good lad," the seaman nodded again. "So he is still your best friend, and you aren't afraid to be near him. So what do you want to do now?"

"I want to be his friend," Jonathan answered mournfully. "I want to be his pal and bring him homework and help make everything better, and I want everything the way it was before he got sick."

"One matter at a time," the Captain smiled again. "Jonathan, you are on the right track. What Billy needs now is your friendship and support and someone to talk to and... Be there with him, regardless what happens. Are you up to doing that?"

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah." His eyes grew big. "I know Billy would do it for me. I can do it for him."

Daniel stood. "Good. Now what are you going to do first?"

The boy looked thoughtful. "I think I'll go look through my books and find out if there are any he wants to borrow. If he's stuck in bed, I bet he's getting bored. I have all the _Don Speed _books. I bet I have some he hasn't read!" He gave the seaman a hug. "Thanks, Captain! You were a big help! I just know he'll get better! He just needs to know he has people who care about him!" The boy was off like a shot then, and Daniel Gregg stood, looking after him as he started down the attic stairs.

After the boy scampered off on his mission, Daniel stared after him for a few moments more, considering the conversation. Though he felt concern for little Billy, he was more worried about Jonathan. Recalling Dashire's last days, he knew how hard it was to watch one of your best friends slowly slip away from themselves. Jonathan was too blasted young to bear such a burden, but who wasn't too young for that?

Finally, he did the only thing he knew to do. The ghost went in search of Carolyn. He found her staring blankly at Dashire's memoirs.

"Madam, have you a moment?" Captain Gregg asked, falling back on formality to conceal how disconcerted he felt.

"What? Oh, always, for you, Daniel," she forced a smile. "I'm sorry I didn't see you, but I — "

"Jonathan spoke to you about Billy?" he asked. She affirmed this with a nod.

"Yes. I know this is selfish of me, but I'm more concerned about how it affects Jonathan, and there's a part of me that is very glad that it's not my son going through this."

"That's not selfish, that's being a parent," Daniel told her, taking a seat near enough to his lady to take her hand. "I confess, I haven't kept up with modern medicine all that well. In my day, there would be virtually no hope, short of a miracle..."

Answering his unstated question, Carolyn admitted, "I don't think the prognosis is much better now than then."

"Jonathan said Billy had been in remission once before...?"

"Yes, but the fact that it's back — I don't know if the odds are improved by the fact that he beat it once before or not." She sighed, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm slightly acquainted with Dr. Avery, she seems like someone who's easy to talk to. Maybe she can tell me, in general, what to expect? Or — I don't know what she could tell me, but the worst she can do is say 'I can't or won't tell you.' I'll try to see her tomorrow." She hesitated. "You don't have any insights on — death, do you?"

With a gentle smile, Daniel shook his head. "Jonathan asked me something similar, my dear. As I told him, no. If it's any help, if it comes to that, Dash might be able to tell him how... relieved he felt for the end to come, but not just yet."

"No, not just yet. Thank you, Daniel."

"Carolyn, you know I care about both your children as if they were my own."

Rising, she kissed his cheek. "I know. But saying 'thank you' needs to happen, from time to time."

The next day, Carolyn gave Candy a ride to school. Jonathan was concerned that Miss Drew might need him to take Billy his homework again, and he had a couple of books he thought his friend would enjoy in any case, so he wanted to be on his bike.

After dropping off her daughter, Carolyn drove over to the combination house and office the young widow occupied. No patients were there yet, so Linden could see her immediately.

"Good morning, Mrs. Muir," Dr. Avery smiled. "I hope you aren't here on a professional matter, even if that's not profitable."

"It's Carolyn, and no... Not exactly."

"And I'm Lynne, or Linden. Whichever you prefer. What is not exactly? Coffee?"

"Please," Carolyn agreed, trailing the doctor to her private office.

When the two women were seated with cups in hand, Carolyn broached the topic. "I know you can't tell me anything specific, but Jonathan is Billy's friend, and I — I want to know more..."

Lynne pursed her lips, thinking. "First off, are you one of those idiots who think cancer is contagious?" Even without the word "idiot," her tone left no doubt about how she felt about that.

"No, not at all," Carolyn assured her. "But, Jonathan has questions, and I want to know how to help him cope with this, what not to do as well as to do."

Lynne nodded. "I didn't think you were. Okay. Well, do you know what leukemia is?" When Carolyn nodded, Lynne went on. "Billy has rough road ahead, yes. I know the doctor in Skeldale who is handling his treatment for the cancer. He's first rate, but it's not the doctor who decides how it comes out. That's up to God. The fact that the cancer has come back does not bode well. Like when you have a cold or something and suffer a relapse, the backslide is worse than the original illness." She sighed in sorrow and frustration. "The only thing your boy or any of us can really do is be a friend to him and his parents and help keep their spirits up. And pray. That's the best medicine, something I always prescribe, whether it's cold or cancer."

Carolyn blinked. "I'm a little surprised at you, a doctor prescribing prayer or saying God is in charge, I do believe that, but —"

Linden smiled sardonically. "Yeah, well, I don't want the job. He handles it quite well. I was raised in a Christian home; my favorite nephew has announced he's going into the ministry after school. But, medicine is my ministry. Even if I didn't believe before, when I began studying medicine, seeing how complex the human body is, how it works, would convince me." She paused, taking a sip of her coffee. "Was that helpful?"

Carolyn nodded. "Yes. Thank you for your time."

"Anytime, though if I'd had patients, I might have had to make you wait." Just then, the bell rang, announcing that she did have one now. So the visit was ended.

XXX

Since Jonathan stopped to see Billy again that afternoon, Carolyn had time to assemble the rest of her "family," Candy, Martha, Daniel, and the other three ghosts to apprise them of the situation. They all took the news soberly, promising to help in any way they could. Then, Dash popped out to bring Adam up to speed on the latest. Over time, the attorney had started to become part of the family, and the nobleman knew he'd be hurt if he was left out of this.

A few days after her visit to Linden's, Carolyn's afternoon writing was interrupted when Martha came up to the master cabin to tell her that the doctor was there. Curious, Carolyn went downstairs to see the woman standing in the living room, looking up at Daniel's portrait.

"Impressive," Lynne commented with a nod to the picture. "Hope I'm not disturbing you. I had a break between patients and thought I'd drop these by." Now Carolyn noticed a handful of pamphlets in her friend's hand. "They're from the National Cancer Institute. They have support groups for the families and friends of cancer victims." She paused. "I got in touch with them, thought that maybe — there's no support group in Schooner Bay — I don't know if there's one anywhere in comfortable driving distance, but maybe some of the suggestions could help?"

Reaching out, Carolyn took the small books. "Thanks, Lynne. I appreciate that."

The physician shrugged. "It's not much, but... it can't hurt. I've got to run. A patient's due in half an hour — I know it's considered good form for a doctor to run late, but that's not me."

"Thanks again," Carolyn said as she let her guest out.

As she turned, she ran into Daniel, who'd materialized as the door shut. "That was —"

"I was listening," he confessed. "May I?" When she nodded, he plucked a blue booklet from her fingers. "These seem like very basic common sense ideas. Listen. Be a friend. Be considerate of their limited strength."

Carolyn felt obligated to defend Linden. "She was only trying to help."

Daniel acknowledged this with an inclination of his head. "I know, my dear. I don't blame the doctor. Perhaps in the general populace, common sense is so lacking that someone felt the need to state the obvious."

"Or maybe, that really is all that can be done, but putting it in writing makes that more concrete?" Carolyn guessed.

"True." He glanced over the words again. "In any case, Jonathan is doing all this now."

"He still wishes there was more he could do," she softly stated, shaking her head.

"I do as well, my dear."

XXX

January turned into February. Three times a week, Billy went into Skeldale for chemotherapy. Jonathan had been prepared for the changes that began to occur in his friend, but that didn't keep it from hurting him as much as they did Billy. The physical changes didn't bother him much that much. Billy grew thinner and his hair began to come out, as Jonathan knew it would. It was seeing his friend get cranky, weak, and once in a while, snappish, that hurt.

As the weeks passed, Billy's doctor suggested regular transfusions would increase his strength. To help offset the cost, friends could donate blood to help. Carolyn and Martha did, as did Dr. Lynne. The ghosts would have, had they blood to donate. Candy offered, but wasn't old enough, and of course, Jonathan wasn't either, though he would have loved to be Billy's blood brother. Even Adam Pierce did. However, when Carolyn smiled and told him how sweet that was, he glossed over it, saying he'd been meaning to donate for sometime now... that with Tris loose behind a wheel, they'd be needing greater reserves. Of course, that fooled no one.

Then, Billy began to get better. On the first of February, he was able to come back to school for the first time since before Christmas. Poor Miss Drew had a hard time keeping the class focused on their lessons because many of them kept turning to stare at the bald boy. At recess and lunch, the whispers flew among the students. Without any effort, Danny Shoemaker was able to devise insults, yet look perfectly innocent.

Jonathan came home mad as a hornet, spitting every insult he'd ever heard Daniel apply to Claymore in reference to the Shoemaker brat. Tristan was there, taking a break from Elroy, and offered to help deal with Danny. Carolyn put her foot down, tempting though it might be, and told Jonathan not to use those words.

Things didn't improve after the initial shock wore off; if anything, they got worse. News of Billy's illness spread to the other grades like wildfire. Penelope Hassenhammer began to twitter about how she hoped she didn't "catch it." After all, Candy was in her class and Candy's brother was always hanging around the sick boy, so Candy might have the germs. It took every ounce of the self-control the girl was trying to acquire not to give Penny a black eye. Linden's son, Thom, had picked up a good bit of medical terminology at home and gave Penny a lecture on oncology that boggled the simpering chit's mind. And it was only a coincidence when her hair ribbons tied themselves into virtually unfathomable knots.

When all the teachers mandated that any student caught harassing Billy or his friends would get a week's detention, Danny's gang just got sneakier. Nothing could be proved, and the unwritten rule against tattling suppressed potential proof.

XXX

As March blew in, Claymore found his way to Gull Cottage. "Spring is springing, and the birds are singing, people," he chortled when Martha let him in. "So, it's time to go out to the ball game. In other words, Jonathan, why haven't you signed up for the tryouts?"

Before Jonathan could answer, Carolyn jumped to intervene. "Claymore, we've kind of had other things on our plate, lately."

"Yes, yes, I know, but life goes on. Now, Jonathan, you do want to pitch, don't you?"

Jonathan shook his head, slowly. "Nope. I don't feel like it."

The lanky man's mouth opened in astonishment and he dropped to the couch. "Don't WANT to? Jonathan, you're our star pitcher! I... we were counting on you! The team needs you! You can't do this!"

The boy surveyed him from his seat in Martha's rocking chair. "I'm sorry, Mister Gregg, but I just don't want to. I have more important... things to do after school right now. Weekends, too. I just don't think I feel like it this season. Maybe later though... if things work out. Ask Conner. Or Kyle. They'd both..." His voice caught in his throat. "...They both want to pitch. They told me so."

"Conner's place is first base and Kyle's is third..." Claymore looked at Carolyn, helplessly**. "**Mrs. Muir, tell Jonathan his has to try out. It's not for me. It's for the team. For the Oysters."

Jonathan shook his head again resolutely. "Nope. You're going to have to get someone else."

"Jonathan," Claymore wheedled. "Is it... are you bored with pitching? Is that it?"

"Oh, no..." the boy broke character for a moment. "I love pitching."

"Well if you love it, why don't you...?" He turned to Carolyn again. "Mrs. Muir, you're his mother. Tell him."

Carolyn regarded her son carefully and shook her head. She had a fair idea of what the problem was, regardless of Jonathan's reticence to discuss the subject. "I'm sorry, Claymore." She turned back to the landlord. "This is Jonathan's decision. I can't... and won't... force him into playing."

Jonathan gave his mother a relieved glance. "Do you need me for anything else, Mom?"

"Not unless you need ME, for something," his mother answered.

"Uhm, no. Not right now. 'Scuse me, Mom, Mister Gregg. I gotta go do my homework." Within seconds, the boy was out of the room, the two adults staring after him.

"I don't believe this..." Claymore moaned. "We don't have a chance against the other teams in the league without Jonathan. He's the best pitcher we have!"

Daniel popped in at that moment and scowled at his supposed nephew. "What are you doing here, you moronic, misbegotten oaf?" he growled. "Just because you still call yourself landlord of MY property, that doesn't mean you can invite yourself to Gull Cottage any time you please! If you are here with any more money-gouging ideas, you can forget it! I'll have you know if it weren't for..."

"Shh, Daniel," Carolyn interrupted the seaman's harangue. "Claymore is here in his capacity as coach for the Schooner Bay Oysters. He..." The Captain cut her off.

"Well, why didn't you say so? Signing Jonathan up for pitcher again, of course! Well, that's fine! Fine! I've been telling Dash and Sean about how the Oysters were first in their league last year and..."

"That's LAST year!" Claymore moaned again. "Jonathan's not playing. He's not even trying out!"

Furious, Daniel grabbed the hapless man by the front of his shirt. "Claymore James Gregg! You sniveling snake! How many times do I have to tell you that you cannot play favorites when it comes to sports! Don't you know you've probably broken Jonathan's heart, trying this again! Now, you get up there right now and tell him he can play or I'll..."

"_Erughhhh!" _Claymore shrieked, and his watery blue eyes bulged. "Captain, uncle, sir! I didn't tell him anything — he..."

Quickly Carolyn grabbed the seaman's hand, and with that one touch, Daniel loosened his hold. "Daniel..." she began, keeping her voice level. "Claymore didn't do anything. Not a thing. Jonathan said he didn't want to try out. Claymore has nothing to do with this."

"Nonsense. He told me only last fall he couldn't wait for the season to start." Daniel's eyes were still blazing. "Carolyn, my dear, there's no need to stick up for this slimy worm."

"Daniel, listen to me..." Carolyn started again. "I'm NOT sticking up for Claymore. It's just that this time he hasn't done anything. I'm telling you, Jonathan said he doesn't want to play this season."

Slowly, the seaman let loose of the other man's shirt and turned back to the beautiful woman in front of him. "This is really true?" The confusion was plain on his face. "But why? Jonathan said he..."

Claymore stepped backwards a couple of feet. "I have no idea, but..." he glanced at Carolyn Muir and then back to Daniel Gregg. "Look, let's let bygones be bygones here. I know I wasn't exactly... well, enthused about Jonathan two years ago at first, but he's a swell pitcher. The best the Oysters have. We need him. See if you can get him to change his mind, huh? Captain, YOU tell him he has to play. He'll listen to you." By now they had all reached the foyer. "Look, tryouts don't start until tomorrow afternoon. Talk some sense into Jonathan and I'll... I'll even pay for his sweatshirt this year. Box and all, okay?"

Carolyn opened the front door, and patted the worried man on the back. "Claymore, I'll try," she started. "But really, I have an idea this has nothing to do with 'having other things to do.' We'll talk to him. See what's on his mind. Maybe we can get something figured out."

"I hope so," Claymore sighed as he started down the stairs, his shoulders sagging. He turned around and faced her again. "Mrs. Muir, Captain, I'll do anything... anything. Just see if you can find out what's bugging him, all right?"

Carolyn looked after her landlord silently as he got in his car and chugged up Bay Road, then turned back to her Captain and looked at him steadily. "Daniel, you do know what the problem is, don't you?"

The seaman nodded. "Yes. It came to me as you were pulling me off Claymore. It's Billy, isn't it?"

Carolyn nodded. "I think so. Jonathan won't spend the hours he needs to practice and be in the games if it means not being there for Billy."

"I admire the lad's loyalty, if not his logic," Daniel said, a tired look in his eyes. "But surely Jonathan realizes that giving up his place on the team isn't going to help Billy one iota. If anything, it will just make Billy feel worse — won't it?"

Carolyn nodded. "Of course it will, but Jonathan doesn't see it that way, and I'm afraid if we try to coax him into trying out for the team, the only thing that will happen is he will be more determined not to."

Daniel took his lady's hand in his. "Blast. My dear, I honestly thought that the biggest hurdle I could overcome was the one that would allow me to experience touch again — to be able to have a relationship with you. Then, the challenge of extending my corporealness for any length of time, but NOTHING is worse than not being able to solve all the problems of life for Jonathan and Candy. Jonathan is hurting and I can't help him and I can't live this experience for him. Blast! Pardon me, but misplacing Scruffy or seeing Candy through the throws of her first crush is nothing compared to not being able to help Jonathan help his friend... or even know exactly what to suggest. I've never been through anything like this before. I'm working without a map."

"I know, my darling, I know," Carolyn whispered. "But if it's any comfort, I'm feeling just as lost as you are. I guess all we can do is cross our fingers — and remember what Lynne suggested, and pray."

Daniel nodded. "I'll talk to Claymore first thing tomorrow. I'll make him keep the pitcher's position open. It is possible the lad will change his mind."

"No, Daniel..." Carolyn held his hand tightly. "Don't talk to Claymore yet. Let's give it a day or so and see if Jonathan changes his mind on his own. Jonathan wouldn't like it if we tried to interfere with what is, and should be, his decision." A pensive look came to Carolyn's tired face and she laid her head on Daniel's shoulder.

Daniel nodded again, bent his head slightly and kissed the top of her head. "I suppose you're right... Carolyn, why does being a parent have to be so hard?"

"I don't know." She said, tiredly. "But if I knew, I could make a million telling other parents how to make things easier."

XXX

After the family was asleep that night, Daniel called a meeting of his crew. The three ghosts watched him pace as he restated his feeling of 'lostness' in the matter. He restated everything he'd said when trying to help Jonathan cope with this trauma over the last few weeks.

"Have I missed anything? Is there something I can say that I have yet to say? Dash, you were a parent!"

"Seven times over, at that," Sean nodded. "So, you are the expert here, your lordship."

Dash shook his head. "Blast it, I'm as at sea as any of you here. None of my little ones ever faced anything like this. People died, of course, and sometimes they were children, but we didn't have enough medical acumen to make it a very long, drawn out process. It did seem so, if you were in the middle of doing it, of course. You and Sean have more experience on that than I — you visited me more than any living person when I was sick."

"I would have, if I'd known," Tristan offered, apologetically.

"We know, but really, old son, the coughing left me too sore to properly laugh at your wit."

"Yes, yes, we are all the most considerate, wittiest spirits to ever haunt," Daniel growled impatiently. "Be that as it may, this boy that is as much of a son as I'll ever have needs support. And I can't make things better. I didn't feel this helpless on Carolyn's and my ill-fated date or when that blasted Sea Vulture was in port."

"Daniel, the date turned out fine, in the end, you said," Sean consoled. "There's no way short of a miracle for this to turn out well, not for Jon anyway. I'm sure that if one of us was as ill as Billy, and you were in Jon's shoes, you'd even leave the sea for a time."

"Aye," Daniel said heavily.

From the ceiling, Tristan, suggested a bit weakly: "You really have said all there is to say, sir. Truly, you have. All you can do for Jon is all he can do for Billy. Be there for him."

"Out of the mouth's of —" Sean began, but Tristan cut him off with a plea not to finish the thought.

Daniel admitted to himself that his crew was right.

XXX

Monday morning, Jonathan did his best to ignore the cold stares that greeted him as the children lined up at the door awaiting entrance into Schooner Bay Grammar School, but by ten a.m. recess, there was no escaping his classmates and fellow teammates on the Schooner Bay Oysters.

Trying to ease the tense situation, Jonathan and Billy ignored the other boys and started a quiet game of catch over by the fence, crossing their fingers that they would not be harassed. Sadly this was not the case. A group of Jonathan's classmates followed the boys to the fence in a matter of minutes. Jonathan's friend Conner stepped forward first.

"Jonathan?" he called. "Hey, can we talk to you?"

Detecting the worried tone in his friend's voice, Jonathan relaxed a bit. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Not stopping his gentle tosses to Billy, he nodded his head. "Whatdaya want?"

"Jonathan," the other boy started. "What's this about you not signing up to try out for the team? That's not true, is it?"

"Yep," Jonathan sighed. "It is. You heard right. I'm not playing for the Oysters this year."

"But..." cut in another boy, Kyle, also a fellow team member. "Jonathan, you HAVE to try out!"

Jonathan shrugged and kept tossing the ball to Billy, who tossed it back. "I don't have to. Nobody can make me. I have other things... I need to do."

"But what? And WHY?" Quentin Armstrong, the Oysters' best catcher asked. "Last fall you were gonna, and you were voted MVP for the league and everything! You're our star player! Everyone says so!"

"Yeah, Jonathan," put in Caleb, another boy. "What's up? You know the Oysters don't stand a chance this season without you on the pitcher's mound. You have to be there!"

Conner spoke again. "Nobody else pitches anything like you, and besides, you're a good team player. And not only that, Mister Gregg doesn't yell as much and get so excited when you are around."

"I don't have to play if I don't want to," Jonathan maintained, sticking out his jaw. "And I'm not."

Danny Shoemaker stepped forward, his stance cocky, and a not so subtle sneer on his lips. "Muir's chicken," he started. "He knows that this year he'd never make it! Last year was just a fluke. Just like all that other stuff you did at the tryouts then! You're weird!" He gave Billy a dirty look. "And your friends are weird!" He stepped closer to the two boys. "Besides, you'll have to play with me and you know I'm better'n you! You're chicken! That's all! I'll run you right into the ground! CHICKEN! _Bwack! Bwack!"_

By now Billy's face and bald head had flushed a bright red and Jonathan's face was near purple with rage. Dropping the ball they had been throwing, Jonathan moved a step toward the Shoemaker boy. Thankfully, at that moment, the warning bell signaling the end of recess rang, and the small crowd near the fence started to disburse — not a minute too soon for Jonathan, who was one step away from making a wild leap toward Danny. _Coward... _Jonathan thought. _Jumping someone when they are down and making fun of me for sticking by a friend! How would you like it if someone did that to you? But you don't know, do you Danny? Nobody'd do that for you!_

With a small sigh of relief, Jonathan and Billy slowly followed their school mates back inside.

XXX

Lunchtime came, and the two friends made their way once more toward the far fence. Unlike recess, the boys were not bothered, or even approached by anyone else. Lunch was eaten quickly, in a companionable silence. Jonathan's, anyway. Billy ate half his sandwich, then stopped and regarded his friend, thoughtfully.

"Jon, I think you're being kinda stupid..." he began.

"I'm not being stupid." Jonathan's answer was automatic. "Besides, what am I being stupid about, anyway?"

"You don't have to pretend," Billy shook his head. "You know what I'm talking about."

"No..." Jonathan's voice was wary. "What?"

His friend sighed. "Jon, I know you are just trying to stick up for me, but you can't NOT try out for the Oysters just because you want to hang out with me and I can't be on the team. That's not right. And it's not fair. Not to the Oysters, or to you."

"It is, too!" Jonathan protested. "I don't have to try out for the team if I don't want to. Mom told me that a long time ago." His jaw jutted out and he continued, a slight hesitation in his voice. "And I don't want to." In spite of his words, Jonathan's eyes wandered for a fraction of an instant to the field at the other end of the playground where some of the boys were practicing, and Billy followed his friend's glance.

"You're fibbing, Jon," he stated. "You love pitching. You've told me all about it, remember? We were even going to try out together!"

"That was before!" Jonathan argued.

"Before what?" Billy shot back.

"Before you..." Jonathan paused. "I mean, before I..."

"Before ME," Billy said quietly. "Before I got sick. Before my leukemia came back."

"That's not..." Jonathan started again, but his friend interrupted him.

"Yes it is. Jonathan, if you want to play, you have to try out. I shouldn't be the one stopping you. Don't you see? If you don't play, just to keep me company, all that will happen is everyone will get mad, AND you'll get mad sooner or later because you aren't doing what you want to do and what you are good at, and it will be MY fault."

"No, it won't!" Jonathan started again.

"Yes it will. And I don't want you mad at me, because of that, either. Besides, the Oysters need you. They told you so."

"But I don't NEED to play, Billy," Jonathan started again. "I'd rather..."

"Jon, you know you'd rather play, and I won't keep you away from it." Billy's voice was flat. "Besides, you could always try out, and not make the team, but I don't think so. You have to try. Look, if I were flunking math, you wouldn't flunk too, just to be my friend, would you?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Of course not. But, Billy, this isn't the same thing! It's..."

"Yes, it is, too," his friend argued back. "It's exactly the same. You're not doing something you like because of me, and I won't let you. The Oysters need you as much as I want you as a friend. Look... I'm better now. I'm not well enough to play, but I'll... I'll come to practice and watch you when I can, and I'll come to all the home games. I don't know whether my mom will let me come to the ones at other schools or not, though. It kinda depends on what days I have my treatments, okay? Please, Jonathan? Don't mess everything up because of me. If you do, you know what will happen? I'll get better and you won't be a star pitcher anymore. And that would be terrible because I will have caused it and I'm your best friend... so, please?"

Jonathan considered the other boy's request. "I dunno, Billy. It doesn't seem right, just leaving you. You're my best friend, too... we're blood brothers, only without the blood. And you just had a treatment a couple of days ago, and you said you were still feeling punky, and I..."

The bell rang at that moment, interrupting his thought.

"Jonathan, please?" Billy's voice took on a desperate tone. "At least, think about it?"

"Okay," Jonathan said. "I will, I promise, but I won't make up my mind until school is out today, and I won't try out it if I am not absolutely positive for sure I know it's the right thing to do."

"All right," Billy agreed. "We better get moving, Jon. Miss Drew gets mad as anything if we're late to class."

"Yeah," Jonathan agreed. "No sense getting anyone else ticked at me!"

XXX

Ten minutes before tryouts were due to start at the ballpark two blocks away from Schooner Bay Grammar School, Claymore paced.

"Ed, what are we going to do?" the man fretted. "The Skeldale Sea Lions have Ace Jefferson as their star batter. Jonathan is the only prayer we have of striking HIM out... not to mention the Keystone Clippers and the Privet Pirates batting line ups. We'll be... fish bait without Jonathan Muir! What gets into kids these days, I just don't know! I certainly wouldn't turn down a chance to pitch for the Oysters! Why, when I was in school, I..."

"When WE were in school, you were the water boy, Claymore," Ed drawled. "I know. I was there."

Claymore felt a tug on his sleeve. "Mister Gregg? Claymore?"

"Hush, child," Claymore said without looking.

"Claymore..." Ed Peavey began.

"Mister Gregg?" The small voice came again, and Claymore looked down, impatiently. Jonathan's face was staring back at him.

"JONATHAN!" The lanky man rejoiced. "You're here! You changed your mind!"

"Yeah," the boy's voice was hesitant. "I guess. Yeah. I want... no... I need to try out after all."

XXX

Jonathan lived up to Claymore's wildest hopes. Despite his misgivings, the boy tried his hardest, knowing that Billy was counting on him. Needless to say, by the end of tryouts, Claymore was ecstatic, Danny Shoemaker was bummed out at having to eat crow, and Jonathan felt somewhere in between. A part of him was filled with pride and natural joy at doing his best and being rewarded for it, but the other part of him was as sad as he was happy.

When he arrived at Gull Cottage, Jonathan announced, "I made the team, I'm the pitcher again."

Wisely, no one commented on his change of heart, or his lack of exuberance at telling his family the news.

"Well, this calls for an extra special celebration dinner," Martha beamed. "I'll get to work on it right away."

As she bustled off, Jonathan sighed, "I just wish Billy could play, too. I'm scared something will happen to him or he'll get lonesome while I'm playing. A lot of the guys are teasing him, still. And, well... I just wish..."

Daniel glanced at Carolyn. When she gave him a subtle nod, he cleared his throat. "I've been doing some research on how other patients cope with the — hardships inflicted by their disease, and I ran across several interesting stories. In other parts of the country, it is not uncommon for cancer, and other people afflicted with — debilitating illnesses to be made an honorary squad member of say a fire station or police station, or team member of a sports team. A mascot, as it were. I don't see why Billy couldn't be the Oysters' mascot. Then, he'd be at the games as his health allows. You wouldn't have to feel you were ignoring the obligations you've chosen."

Jonathan looked from his mom to the Captain. "For real?"

"For real," Carolyn confirmed. "I found several articles on microfiche at the library."

"That'd be great!" Jonathan said, enthused, after a moment's thought.

"I'll call Claymore now, while he's in a good mood," Carolyn promised. "Now, I believe you have homework?"

"Yeah," Jonathan made a face. "English. Why do I have to know whether a word's a noun or pronoun or whatever, long's I use them right?"

"It will come in handy, someday," Daniel promised. "You might be a writer, like your mother."

"Or like you," Carolyn reminded him with a half smile.

"Not likely," the boy grumbled, but went off to do as bid.

When his footsteps faded, Carolyn picked up the phone. First, Daniel began advising, "Now then, tell that spineless—"

"Daniel, let me handle Claymore, for now," Carolyn admonished. "Then, if he won't listen to me..."

"He WILL listen to ME," Daniel informed her.

Carolyn did not argue, just began dialing. "Claymore, this is Carolyn Muir."

"Oh, Mrs. Muir, thank you, I KNEW you and — and — you know, could convince Jonathan to try out! This is going to be our best year ever. I just feel it in my bones —"

From his listening stance, Daniel harrumphed. "What bones?"

Unaware of that, Claymore continued, "I was just telling Coach Peavey here, wasn't I, Coach? — That Muir is the best player we've ever had and you can tell ANYONE that."

Carolyn pulled away from the phone slightly when Claymore yelled so that his "uncle" could hear him laud praise upon Jonathan.

"That's fine, Claymore," Carolyn broke in before he could wax poetic. "And it is the team I'm calling about..."

"What? Jonathan hasn't changed his mind, has he? Please, don't tell me that. I'll beg, I'll grovel, I'll..."

"No, it's not that, Claymore, listen to me," Carolyn instructed firmly. "The Captain had an idea — that Billy would make a good mascot for the Oysters."

"A mascot? Billy?" Carolyn could almost hear the frown. "You mean that sick kid that I've heard about?"

"That's the boy," Carolyn agreed, not really wanting to try and teach Claymore sensitivity at the moment. "It would make Jonathan play much better if he didn't need to worry about his friend being left out."

In the background, she heard Ed drawl, "A mascot for the team, and that little guy who's so sick? Sounds like a fine plan, Claymore. Good PR for you, too, what with the town council elections comin' on up in the fall. Fine idea. Specially considering who's talking about running against ya."

"Oh, shush," Claymore's muffled voice fumed. He hadn't covered the phone well. "Mrs. Muir, I can't just — make such a huge decision without giving it some further consideration. But I will think about it and — and get back to you."

"That's all I can ask," Carolyn assured him.

"Is there anything else?" the miser asked, his good mood ruined now.

"No, Claymore." Carolyn turned to tell Daniel what Claymore had said.

"I heard," he dryly noted. "Blasted two-bit coward is scared of what the gossipy simpletons whose children attend school with Jonathan will say."

"He didn't turn me down," Carolyn said hopefully.

"Yet. Never fear, my dear. It will be seen to," Daniel promised, popping out before she could stop him.

The moment Ed left; Daniel made himself visible, inches away from Claymore's nose.

"_Aaaugph!"_

The ghost sighed. "I do not take the pleasure certain crew members do in hearing the range of squawks you are capable of producing, Claymore. Now, listen to me."

"It's about that kid, right? Well, I did promise to think about it, and I will — just as soon as —"

"I know what an effort that is for you," Daniel smoothly interjected. "So I'm here to help you. Now, I overheard the points that Martha's swain..."

"Her what? Oh, do you mean Ed?" Claymore fumbled.

Pinching his nose, Daniel sighed, "Yes, you blithering ninny."

"Insulting me won't help your case," the landlord dared to say, and then quailed at the glare he received.

"Claymore," Daniel seethed, and then backed off. Taking inspiration once more from Adam, he began listing, "First of all, as Ed said, it is good PR. Two, it won't really cost you more than a uniform, but the value of the good press will offset that cost, or Mrs. Muir did say that the price of a jersey for Jonathan would not be a problem for her this year. Therefore, just give Billy the free one instead. That was three. Four, it's a humanitarian gesture, and will be good for you. Five, I know of a keel that is specially designed to haul recalcitrant, skinflint managers."

"Okay, okay, okay," Claymore stammered. "Sheesh. That lawyer is a bad influence on you. Tell Mrs. Muir I'll do it."

"Thank you, Claymore." On that note, Daniel vanished, to his 'nephew's' profound relief.

That evening at dinner, Jonathan was delighted to get the news that Manager Gregg agreed that Billy should be the mascot. When he scampered off before dessert to call Billy, Mrs. Lemoyne asked to speak to Carolyn before she gave permission. In the end though, it was all set. Jonathan would pitch and Billy would be the team mascot.

XXX

Regardless of Claymore's ebullient dreams of a winning season, the Oysters' season began with an unremitting losing streak. The first one was a close call, the second, the point spread was wider, but the third was a slaughter. Nothing went right, including Jonathan's pitching. To his credit, Claymore didn't raise a ruckus about the losses, merely looked disappointed, and Ed Peavey kept his cool, just as he always did. But the reactions of the parents attending the games, and the boys playing were... mixed, to say the least. Nothing definite could be proved, but it didn't take a genius to know that at least some of the boys on the team, and their parents, wondered if Claymore's decision to make Billy the Oyster's mascot had anything to do with the team's reversal of fortunes.

Things came to a head about a month after the opening game of the season.

After school, Monday, Miss Drew reminded Jonathan, Gertie Gilbert, Suze Jones, and Joe Jackson about the Student Council meeting after school, scheduled with Clarence Kreuger, the sixth grade teacher. Jonathan rolled his eyes. _Meetings. _Being on the council was an honor, to be sure, but... well, at least the meetings were short — fifteen, twenty minutes at the most. Telling Billy to wait for him, and that he would meet him on the playground as soon as the meeting was over when they would head to Billy's house, Jonathan left with the other students. But when he came out to the school playground twenty minutes later, Billy was nowhere to be found.

Working on instinct, Jonathan headed back inside the school. _Billy would never leave without me, _he reasoned_. Maybe he forgot something and had to go back and get it. _A quick peek inside his classroom yielded nothing, however, not even Miss Drew. _Jonathan started toward the outside again. Maybe I missed him..._ he thought, but then, passing the boy's bathroom, some sixth sense told him to look inside. No sooner than he crossed the threshold that a small sob met his ears. Instinctively, he knew that it was Billy. Carefully he tiptoed to the far stall, where the sobs could be heard clearly. He tapped on the door.

"Billy?"

"Go 'way."

"Billy, it's me, Jonathan."

"I know."

"Are you sick, Billy?"

"No..."

"Then get out here."

Slowly the small boy opened the door. "You need to stay away from me Jon," he started. "I'm a jinx."

"Geeze, Billy," his friend objected. "And you called me stupid for not wanting to pitch. This is dumb. You aren't a jinx."

"Everyone else says I am. That I'm... because I'm the mascot, that's the reason the Oysters aren't winning this year."

"Okay. You aren't stupid. They're stupid. Who said that? And when did they say that? Today?"

Jonathan handed the smaller boy his handkerchief and leaned against the cool tile of the bathroom and Billy followed suit. "Yeah, today," he said, blowing his nose and wiping his head. "Danny Shoemaker and some of his buddies. I was waiting for you, you see, just standing there and they came up behind me. Butch, that other big kid that Danny hangs out with? I think he plays shortstop. Anyway, he shoved me and knocked my library book on the ground, and wanted to know when I was going to start staying at home instead of coming to the games, because he doesn't like playing on a losing team with a jinx for a mascot."

"But you aren't a jinx," Jonathan objected. "You don't have anything to do with it... how we are playing, I mean. The Oysters are just in an early season slump. Anyone can be in a slump. The Ca... That is, Mister Alexander told me so."

Billy shook his head. "It's not just that, Jon," he sighed. I haven't finished telling you. After Butch called me a jinx, Danny and Paul, his other buddy, ran by me and stole my fisherman's cap — the one Mister Alexander gave me. Jon, this is the third hat someone has taken from me. The other kids think it's funny, I guess. I have permission to wear one in school, even if they don't, and..."

"Did you, uhm, tell anybody?" Jonathan interrupted, and then he hesitated. "Maybe..."

Billy shook his head. "No... I'm not a snitch. Besides I didn't see who took it. Not for sure. I just felt it being took."

"Then what happened?" Jonathan asked, sensing there was more.

"Well..." Billy hesitated. "Butch and Paul and Danny went on and..."

"WHAT?"

"Well, Mrs. Shoemaker stopped her car real near me. She didn't say hello... she never does, even when I know she knows my name, but she blew the horn, and the boys got in the car, and as she was rolling up the window, I heard her say something about why wasn't Danny ready faster, and she told him not to stand near the 'Freaks' — that you just never know about diseases, and how she didn't want him to get sick."

"Mrs. Shoemaker doesn't know anything," Jonathan consoled his friend, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "Everyone knows you can't catch leukemia. Most everyone, that is. Anything else?"

Billy nodded. "Yeah. As they were pulling away, Danny reached into his pocket, pulled out MY cap and put it on — then stuck his tongue out at me." He sighed again. "I bet his mother won't even ask him where he got it. And I KNOW she won't make him give it back!"

"I doubt it," Jonathan sighed. "He'd probably come up with a good lie, even if she did."

"I'm tired," Billy sighed again, another tear rolling down his cheek. "I'm tired of feeling sick, and I'm tired of being called a freak, and being ugly, and nobody at school except you wanting to talk to me. This is why we left Deleware. I got treated like this the last time I was sick, too. The teachers don't care, or don't see, and parents can't watch what their kids do all the time." He sniffed. "And the worst, Jon, the worst is being bald. I could handle the chemo, and throwing up and all that, but why does it have to make me bald? The other kids — they'd understand if it was their hair that fell out, but they just see me and make fun. Your mom and your sister and Martha don't make fun, or Mister Alexander or Mister Dashire or Mister O'Casey, or Mister Matthews, but they can't go to school with me..." Another small sob escaped. "I don't know... I'm just so tired of it all! I guess it's time to move again—"

Jonathan's eyes grew wide. "Billy, No! Just wait until tomorrow. I'll go punch out..."

"You can't fight everyone," Billy said simply. "I won't let you. Besides, even if you could, you can't punch out the grownups." He stood slowly, and then Jonathan stood up also. "I don't think I am going to come to school, any more, Jon," he continued. "I don't have to — Mom has permission to teach me at home, or hire tutors, and every day it gets a little harder. I think it might be for the best. And I'll let Mister Gregg know I won't be at any more of the games... not as a mascot, anyway. Maybe he'll let me keep the shirt..."

"Billy..." Jonathan began, "Billy, don't make up your mind now. Why don't you wait? Tomorrow things might look better."

Billy shook his head again. "It's no use. I could handle everything else if I didn't look so freaky. I don't even like to look at me, but I have to." The small boy headed for the door and opened it.

"Billy..." Jonathan followed, still arguing.

When they reached the outside of the school, Jonathan grabbed his bike, and together they walked to Billy's house, only a few blocks away, but no argument Jonathan could bring up would sway his friend. Upon reaching his house, Billy did not tell his mother what had transpired, but merely announced that he was too tired to play or visit anymore, and Jonathan left for home shortly after. The closer the boy came to Gull Cottage, the angrier he became.

Daniel watched from his telescope as Jonathan stalked inside the cottage. The ghost knew Martha was outside with Candy weeding the garden while Carolyn caught up on her hemming; however, the boy needed someone. That was plain. Therefore, he teleported to the boy's bedroom door, knocked, then went inside. "What's wrong, mate?"

"Nothin'," Jon sighed.

"Jonathan, when someone says 'nothing' in that tone, it is something. Now, tell me, what's wrong? Has Danny Shoemaker been mean again? Or is it something else?" Daniel did not want to ask directly if Billy had died, but he was certain Jonathan would be more than glum and angry over that. Now, if it was the Shoemaker boy... Carolyn may have forbidden Tristan from doing anything about him, but she hadn't said it to him.

Jonathan scowled, then admitted, "Billy wants to give up; he's tired of everyone being mean and scared of him. They think he's a jinx. Most everyone, anyway. It's not fair; I mean, he didn't get sick on purpose." He pounded the bed impotently with one fist. "Blast, I just wish I could do something. He hates being different, but he's really not, he's just sick."

"Well, we don't want you getting sick, my boy," Daniel admonished, tugging his ear thoughtfully. Blast it. People really didn't change as time passed. Meanness was as prevalent in these more enlightened times as before he kicked the blasted gas heater with his blasted foot. That reminded him...

"Jonathan, I am sorry to say, but people have always been cruel."

"But, I bet not to you. Could you do something, Captain? Can you — make his hair grow back like — I've seen Mr. Fontenot, I mean Fontenot, be bald, then later he has hair?"

"That's just an illusion, Jonathan," Daniel laughed slightly. "I can't make his hair grow. None of us can, not even Fontenot. If we could, I'm sure Tristan would have sprouted some on Claymore's head, to spook him." When this had been absorbed, Daniel went back to his original point. "Oh, I'm sure people were mean to me at times, however what stands out in my memory is when Dashire first came to this country."

Despite himself, Jonathan's ears perked up at the thought of hearing a story. Seeing he had the boy's attention, Daniel related, "As you may have noticed, Dash is something of a dandy."

"What's a dandy?"

"Well, it's a gentleman who keeps up with what Beau Brummell — er — the current fashion is and is always in style. And he's very particular about his appearance and manners."

"Isn't that good?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, but, it made Dash stand out in our time. The other seamen were not so polished, and they considered Dash a fancy nobleman, which he was, but that didn't mean he was incapable of work or of being a good comrade. They liked to tease him and make life as difficult as possible for him. Sean and I befriended him, on principle at first, but as we got to know him, we realized Dash was a good man, through and through. So, we hated the torment he was being put through even more. The three of us were like brothers. Rather like you and Billy."

Interrupting once more, Jonathan asked, "What about Tris? And why didn't you just put the bad guys in the brig?"

"Tristan was probably about your age at the time. We hadn't met him as of yet. This is before I was Captain. Had it happened on my own ship, the perpetrators would have been put in the brig until we could find a place to put them off. In any case, one evening, Dash was caught out alone, and several of the crew wanted to make a man of him — it was a ten on one fight. Perhaps more — I didn't take time to count. Sean and I came upon them and evened things up. The three of us prevailed, but only after receiving scars we bore as long as we were in that life."

Scrunching up his face, Jonathan sighed. "I don't think I can beat up all Danny's friends and Billy can't help me. Maybe Candy could stop being so girly and —"

"That's not what I meant. I don't think your mother or I would be happy with either you or your sister being beaten up. It would hardly solve anything," Daniel advised, sagely.

"Did the mean guys leave Dash alone after that?"

"Yes, they did. They knew that he was not some mere fancy lordling, and that he had friends that would stand up for him. And we have been friends, through life, death, and beyond."

Jonathan nodded, his mind whirling as he turned the problem over in his mind. "So, I should stand up for Billy and be his friend, even if it hurts — is that what you mean?"

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't want you to go pick a fight. Your mother would never forgive me if something I said led to you getting in a fight."

"But, there's other kinds of hurt, right?" Jonathan asked, though he understood this well. "Like when you hurt, but not because you're sick or fell down or nothing?"

"Aye, lad. That's something that you feel, even if you don't have a body." Daniel frowned. "Did that help?"

"Yes, sir," Jonathan nodded. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Jonathan."

XXX

All afternoon, Jon pondered the Captain's words. He knew he couldn't take on Danny Shoemaker and everyone else, and it wouldn't really help. Even if he tried it, it wouldn't change anything really, but maybe...?

Maybe he could change something. As the plan crystallized, Jonathan became excited, or it might have been fearful, but he was determined. When Dash and the others showed up for supper Jonathan seemed to witness with fresh eyes the friendship between the spirits that had lasted for more than a hundred years, and this only made him more convicted than ever that he was on the right course.

After supper, he didn't stay up very long, but Carolyn believed he was just tired from all the emotional junk going on. Dash was glad to take the dessert he didn't want. Safely alone in the upstairs bathroom, Jonathan quickly found what he needed and slipped it into his book bag carefully, wrapping it in a bit of cloth, just to be sure no one would see it.

XXX

The next morning, Jonathan was awake long before his alarm clock went off. Forcing himself to relax, and slow down, as he, being up and ready for school early, would definitely qualify as an event worth extra attention. Jonathan managed to show up at the breakfast table only twenty minutes earlier than his normal time. When Martha remarked on what was still considered a noteworthy event, Jonathan brushed off her remarks, saying that he wanted to get to school a little early so that he, Kyle and Conner could work on a few baseball plays before the first bell rang.

Only half-listening to what he hoped would pass as a logical explanation, Martha had nodded, saying **A; **that Candy had already left on her bike to meet to meet Tricia; they were putting their finishing touches on a joint science project. **B. **His mother and the Captain were holed up in the master cabin, finishing the final proof on a story that had to be out by the ten a.m. post, and **C. **The washer was giving her fits again, and even though she had taken a few lessons from Abner on how to fix the darn thing, she was still having problems, but never fear, no blasted washing machine was going to get the best of her, and please make sure to put his cereal bowl in the sink before he left. With that, she handed him his lunch and disappeared back to the laundry porch.

Giving a sigh of relief that his behavior had been dismissed without too many questions, Jonathan left five minutes later, and he and his bike practically flew the two miles on the dirt road into town to the grade school, arriving a full half-hour before morning classes were due to begin.

Parking his bike behind a large oak tree near the edge of the grammar school property where it wouldn't be readily seen, Jonathan started walking toward the school. "Blast," he moaned quietly, and tried to think. I can't walk in the main entrance early — they'll want to know what I'm doing there, and they probably won't let me into the building, anyway, and if they do, they'll want to know what I want! I can't tell them what I'm going to do! A sudden thought came to him. More than once, he had seen Mr. Coombes, the school's elderly janitor, makes a trash run before classes began in the morning. Hastily he ducked around to the side entrance, by the gymnasium, crossing his fingers that the door there would be open. Checking to make sure that no one was near, he reached toward the double doors and held his breath. The knob turned under his hand, and in a moment, the door was open. _Success!_

Silently, his heart pounding in his ears, the small boy crept down the hall until he reached the boy's bathroom, where he ducked inside the door, and into one of the bathroom stalls.

XXX

Jonathan waited twenty minutes after he heard the final bell ring signaling the beginning of morning classes, before emerging from his hiding place. So far, so good. There had not been too many 'visitors' to the area that morning, and only five minutes after the final bell had rung, the janitor had come in, but only long enough, Jonathan was relieved to see, peeking from his hiding place, to refill the liquid soap containers. He had been worried for a moment that the janitor would notice the closed stall door at the far end and he had a story all concocted, just in case, but the old maintenance man hadn't even noticed the closed door and was gone two minutes later.

Heaving a mingled sigh of relief, and anticipation, Jonathan reached into his backpack and pulled out the tools he had smuggled from Gull Cottage, and went to work.

An hour and some later, after several false alarms when he thought he heard someone coming toward the bathroom, and he had to hide until he was sure that it was not the case, his mission, for better or worse, was complete. Well, almost. There was still the matter of the population of Schooner Bay Grammar School — and his mother — and Captain Gregg and the other ghosts that frequented Gull Cottage — seeing what he had done. But first, Billy. The bell rang at that moment. Startled, Jonathan looked up. _That was the ten o'clock bell. The one announcing morning recess. Everyone will be outside in a minute or two. Good a time as any... _he thought. _Well, what I've done... it's for the best. I need to find Billy... _Slamming his baseball cap on his head, Jonathan headed down the hall and went out the gym doors he had gone in... And ran smack into Miss Amanda Drew.

It was hard to say who was more startled, Jonathan or his teacher, but Miss Drew recovered first.

"Jonathan!" she gasped, "What... what are you doing here? I thought you were out sick today... I was just coming back inside to call your house... Billy's out today also, and I thought maybe you two were..." She paused and looked at the boy closely, seeing the sorrowful, almost panicky look in his eyes. _What was wrong? What... why does he look different?_ She reached for the cap on his head and removed it without a word. Then she gasped, her hand covering her mouth_. "Oh, Lord, Jonathan! What HAVE you done?"_

"What I had to," the boy replied simply. "What was right."

"Oh, Jonathan..." she replied, giving the boy back his cap. "Jonathan, I know you meant well, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "You know I need to take you to the principal's office, right away, don't you?"

"Yeah," he replied. "And call Mom, too, right?"

The teacher nodded.

XXX

As Jonathan trailed Mrs. Drew down the hallway toward Mr. Hampton's office, some of his pride at doing what he thought the Captain, or one of his real crew members would do, began to be crowded by tingles of fear. Mr. Hampton wasn't scary, really, but he was the principal, and he would call Mom. Jonathan hoped she wouldn't be mad. Even if she was, he'd done what he had to, and it was done. Not even Martha could put the hair back on him now.

When they reached the office, the school secretary was away from her desk, so Mrs. Drew simply tapped on Mr. Hampton's door. "Mr. Hampton? It's Miss Drew," she called after hearing him say "yes?" With an almost apologetic look at Jonathan, she went on. "I'm here with Jonathan Muir."

By now, they had entered the small office. Jonathan was slightly behind his teacher, out of Hampton's direct line of vision. "What? Did he contradict you, Miss Drew? What about?" Already, the nervous little man was popping a pill in his mouth. Jonathan had to suppress a grin, as he could hear the Captain's precise voice calling him "the pill-popper." Giggling at the principal would not help his case.

"It's not about that, sir," Miss Drew denied, stepping away from Jonathan. "It's —"

Now, Mr. Hampton could see Jonathan. With a deep sigh, he shook his head. "Jonathan, Jonathan, there are rules about proper dress here, and I realize they seem outmoded to a young boy, such as yourself, but the dress code is here for a reason. You know perfectly well that baseball caps are not allowed inside, not even for the star pitcher of the Oysters."

"Sir, it's not that either," Miss Drew corrected him. Gingerly, she removed Jonathan's cap to reveal his poorly-shaven head.

Mr. Hampton had started to rise, and then sat down abruptly. "Wh-what happened? D-Doctor Avery assured me it's not contagious — we have an epidemic now. He has a sister, someone — they'll have to be quarantined — you'll have to be quarantined…" He popped several antacids at once.

"MISTER HAMPTON!" Miss Drew snapped impatiently. "Cancer is not contagious. Jonathan shaved his own head. He's not sick."

Wide-eyed, Mr. Hampton looked at Jonathan, taking two more pills for good measure. "Is this true? You aren't sick?"

"Yes, I mean no... I'm not sick. I just wanted to make Billy feel better..." Jonathan tried to answer both questions.

"Why did you do this?" Mr. Hampton asked in bewilderment. "It's… why?"

"Mr. Hampton, you need to call Mrs. Muir," Miss Drew instructed as one would have a lost child.

"What? Oh, yes, yes, certainly. What do I say?"

Patiently, the teacher told him what to tell Mrs. Muir. When he had made the call, she looked down at Jonathan regretfully. "I've got to go back to class now. The student teacher can't handle the class for much longer, I imagine."

XXX

Back at Gull Cottage, Carolyn was getting her purse when Daniel appeared beside her. "Did I hear the phone ring?"

"Yes. It was the school."

"Is one of the children ill?" Daniel asked in concern. "I know the spring cold has been going around."

"Neither one is ill. Jonathan is in trouble," Carolyn explained. "Mr. Hampton wants me to come down immediately."

"What? Why that two-bit, pill-popping, pencil-pusher!" Daniel fumed. "I'm sure that this is all a case of Jonathan knowing more than the flitter-brained teacher, and that does not sit well with the administration. You leave this to me, my dear."

Before he could vanish, Carolyn stopped him. "Captain, Daniel, please. You know Billy's been teased a lot, I imagine it's to do with that, somehow."

Daniel paused, frowning. "He was asking me about how to deal with one's friend being teased. I told him… blast. I fear I've precipitated this latest debacle, my dear, with my story of how Sean and I defended Dashire. I must go with you to help make this right."

Carolyn smiled. "Daniel, no one knows about you, and how can you tell Mr. Hampton the story of how you and Sean helped Dash a century's past?"

"My dear, how often must I remind you? No one can see or hear me unless I wish it? Perhaps the pill-popper, forgive me, Mr. Hampton, the pill-popper, will not perceive me, but I may still be of some use. At the very least, as moral support for you and the lad."

To herself, Carolyn admitted having him there would be welcome. "Okay, but only Jonathan and I see or hear you, right?"

"Of course."

XXX

The ghost and Mrs. Muir arrived at Schooner Bay Elementary in record time. True to his word, Daniel remained invisible, but Carolyn felt his presence comforting her close by.

Both were prepared to see Jonathan with perhaps a black eye or bloody nose. Neither was ready to see him sitting in Mr. Hampton's office, slumped over, wearing his baseball cap in the schoolhouse, and apparently uninjured. There was something not right though.

"Go on," Mr. Hampton said, grimly.

Slowly, Jonathan turned to face his 'parents.' First, he removed the lollipop Mr. Hampton had given him from his mouth, and then took off his cap. Carolyn could not suppress a startled gasp.

"Hi, Mom." He didn't say the Captain's name, but his eyes flickered over to look at the ghost.

"What happened?" Carolyn cleared her throat uneasily. Though it seemed plain, there were other possible explanations. Weren't there?

"Billy was tired of being teased and picked on by — by kids," Jonathan replied. "He didn't like being so alone and different, and now he's not. I just did what friends do for each other."

There was a moment of silence. Then, Carolyn looked over at the principal with raised eyebrows. Taking this as a cue, Mr. Hampton sighed, "I've tried, but he won't tell me who did this teasing."

"It's bad to tattle," Jonathan affirmed stubbornly.

"Please, put that cap back on," Mr. Hampton begged. When he had, the man confessed, "I don't know what to do."

"You can't punish him for being a loyal friend," Daniel fumed. "For displaying kindness and honor — and — "

"Please," Carolyn hissed under her breath. "I was going to say that." She reddened when she realized Mr. Hampton had caught that line. "I was going to say that you can't punish my son for being a friend to a little boy who has enough problems without bullies making his life worse."

"He cut class and his — Jonathan, how DID you do that?" He waved his hand toward the boy's head, gave him another fretful glance, than shuddered. "I've seen the scissors that you kids use for art class. They can hardly cut paper, especially this late in the year, they're dull."

"I kinda borrowed Martha's hair-cutting shears," Jonathan admitted. "They're in my backpack."

"That — that's bringing a sharp implement onto school grounds," Mr. Hampton decided aloud.

"The only think you can cut with barber shears is hair," Jonathan pointed out helpfully. "And sometimes that doesn't' work too well. I wish I had watched Martha a little better. I didn't do a really great job. I don't look nearly as bald as Billy."

"He didn't use them on anyone but himself," Carolyn and Daniel protested together.

"Y— yes. Right. So, we can't hold that against him, but... oh dear... I'd feel much better If I knew what boys were bothering William..."

Jonathan shook his head resolutely. "No. I won't be a tattletale, and besides, I'm bald now too... sorta. They'll tease me now, not him. I... can't tell."

"You can punish Jonathan, justly, for skipping class," Carolyn suggested. "And he may have to feel some repercussions over 'borrowing' the shears without permission, but that's a matter for me to deal with at home."

"Y— yes," Mr. Hampton exhaled. "That's right. So — so — Jonathan, you will receive an incomplete for any assignments you missed the first two hours of the day. And — and — what else?" He looked at Carolyn helplessly. Nothing like this had ever happened before. _I knew I should have been a plumber_, he thought, wearily.

"Why don't I take him home to get this haircut straightened out?" Carolyn asked, "And he'll be back at school tomorrow?"

Mr. Hampton considered. "Yes. That works. Will his hair be back?"

Daniel groaned at the man's ineptitude.

"Not for a few weeks, or longer," Carolyn replied, covering her own disgust. "But it will be less patchy."

"Yes, well... would you like a lollipop, Mrs. Muir?"

"Er — no. Thanks," Carolyn demurred. "Come along, Jonathan."

XXX

On her way back to class, Miss Drew's heart was both touched and heavy. Seeing a little boy so willing to face ridicule for a friend's sake was reassuring that maybe this world wasn't so terrible, but she hated that he'd likely be in trouble. Too, she despised the pettiness of ignorant, small minded — jerks who had caused something so drastic to happen. Jonathan Muir hadn't said much about why he did what he did, but she had a pretty good idea.

By the time she reached her own door, Miss Drew had decided what she was going to do. After thanking the student teacher for watching the students, she went to the front of the class. "I know you were all looking forward to our filmstrip about seals, but that's going to have to wait. As you may have noticed, class, both Billy Lemoyne and Jonathan Muir are not in class today." She paused to let her eyes sweep the room. Miss Drew did not fail to notice a smug look or snicker that vanished almost as quickly as they appeared. "Before I tell you about that, I want to give you an ancient history lesson."

"Have any of you heard the story of Damon and Pythias?" One or two hands rose. "Good. For the rest of you. In ancient Syracuse, not New York, but a city-state in Greece, there was a cruel tyrant king. Everyone feared him, but two men were brave enough to speak out against him, their names were Damon and Pythias. The king had Pythias imprisoned and intended to have him put to death. Before that could happen, Pythias needed to go home to handle his final affairs. The king was cruel, but he wasn't a fool. He was sure that Pythias would flee and not return to be executed..."

"Well, yeah," some smart aleck muttered.

"Therefore, his friend, Damon offered to be a hostage. If Pythias didn't return, Damon would be executed in his stead. The king agreed, and Pythias went home. The weeks passed, and the date of the execution arrived. Pythias was still gone, and so, Damon was taken to the place of execution. The king called him a fool and prepared to order the sentence to be carried out, but suddenly, the crowd had to part and let Pythias, already half-dead from exhaustion to come forward. He was delayed by the loss of his horse, but had made it back in time. This disappointed Damon, who was eager to die for his friend. The two started arguing about who got to die. Astonished, the king told them to stop arguing about such a matter; saying he had never seen such loyalty before and that he never thought their kind of friendship could exist. Then he begged them to accept his pardon and asked to share in their friendship."

She paused, letting the words sink in. "That story was a myth, now I'll tell you a true one. You have all heard of King David, the boy who killed a giant with a single stone. Yes. He was destined to be king of Israel because King Saul, who began well, had turned evil. Yet, initially, Saul was quite fond of David. He brought him to court so David could play the harp and calm the king when he was troubled. Because of this, David and the crown prince, Jonathan, became friends. As Saul became more unstable, David feared for his life. Even though the king might kill him, Jonathan helped his friend escape. Jonathan knew that it could cost his life, and it would certainly cost him his future throne. Yet, he did this and the two young men vowed to be friends for life. Unfortunately, Jonathan's wasn't very long, but when David learned he had a surviving son, he took care of him for Jonathan's sake."

Danny Shoemaker stuck his hand in the air. "What's this all about?"

"Thank you for asking, Danny," Miss Drew smiled thinly. "Teachers are not as blind and deaf as some of you think. I know that Billy's condition makes many of you uncomfortable, and you have not been able to hide that, shall we say? Billy has a terrible disease, and it will probably shorten his life. By rights, he should be able to live out that time in peace, but there are some people whose fear won't let that happen. He felt very alone, and so, Jonathan did what he could to make him feel less so. When Jonathan comes back to school tomorrow, he will be bald as well. I am hopeful that you will all appreciate the sacrifice one of your peers was willing to make for a friend." She swept the class with her eyes once again. "Now, I want each of you to write a three-hundred word essay on what it means to be a true friend." Silently, she added, _Jonathan Muir will receive an A+ without having to write the paper._

Groans echoed around the class.

XXX

As Jonathan got in the car, he dared to ask, "Are you mad, Mom?"

Carolyn took a moment, and then shook her head. "No, Jonathan. I'm not exactly mad. Not at you. I am angry with those children and their parents who teased Billy — oh, I know you didn't say who, but there are some very likely suspects, based on circumstantial evidence. However, if you ever want to use anything that belongs to someone else, ask first."

"I didn't think you'd let me," the boy protested.

Carolyn glanced to the back seat where Daniel maintained a prudent silence. "I really can't say whether I would or not, in hindsight. But, what you did was very courageous, and I am proud of you."

"We both are, lad," Daniel agreed.

When the trio entered Gull Cottage, to their surprise, the crew was waiting there.

Before Daniel could ask what was up, Sean shook his head, "You projected, again, my friend."

"I'd say every spirit in New England knows when you are upset, sir," Tristan added.

"What is it, this time? Martha did tell us it was some trouble at school, but had no details," Dash asked.

For an answer, Carolyn pulled the cap off Jonathan's head. "Martha, can you fix this?"

The housekeeper gave the boy an assessing stare. "Well, it shouldn't be too hard."

"You'll need these," Jonathan told her, red-faced as he opened his backpack to withdraw the shears.

Shaking her head, Martha led him to the kitchen, shears in hand. "Dash, find the _Beacon_, please. There won't be much hair to fall, but it's easier to sit his chair on that and let it fall there."

"Nice for the blasted rag to have some use," Daniel gruffly noted.

XXX

After Jonathan had departed for the kitchen with Martha, Carolyn turned to the other spirits.

"I hope this isn't all over the school. It'll get turned into something horrible by lunch, once Danny and Penny get hold of it and twist it. I'd hate for Candy to hear about this third-hand."

"I can pop over and tell her the straight story — invisibly, of course." Sean said. "I'll show up as another child on the playground. I've done that before. I'll see Candy, and by the time lunch is over, her teacher won't even remember one extra kid."

"Thanks," Carolyn said. "That might be better than popping in unseen. No sense doing that and giving her a chance to slip. We can't have Penelope starting any stories about Candy talking to herself."

Sean followed through with his suggestion, but by the end of the day, the news of Jonathan's heroic, unselfish action had spread throughout the school, and the rest of Schooner Bay.

For the rest of that afternoon, and for several days following, the telephone at Gull Cottage never seemed to stop ringing. Carolyn and Martha and occasionally the other spirits, disguising their voice as Martha's or Carolyn's, took dozens of phone calls — all from people lauding praise on Jonathan, and what he had done for his friend, and saying how proud she and Martha must be of him. They were, and Candy, too, but Jonathan seemed to be almost embarrassed by the attention, which, he told the Captain, seemed to come too little and too late. For the next few days, Jonathan spent as much time as possible with Billy, who was still astounded by what his friend had done.

Most important of all, Billy was welcomed back to school the day after the 'incident' with open arms — both in the classroom and on the ball field. The next weekend the Schooner Bay Oysters blazed to their first victory of the season, and no one could have been a more popular,_ wanted_ little boy than Billy Lemoyne.

Jane and Danny Shoemaker finally disappeared into the woodwork, and if they had any more complaints on the subject of Billy, Jonathan, or baseball, they kept them to themselves. Enthused by the positive attitude of the township, The PTA mothers, along with Doris Tuttle, Elvira Grover, and Millie, the telephone operator, helped organize a variety of events to help out the Lemoynes financially, and in other ways. Since the cost of Billy's transfusions was steep, but could be offset by people donating blood in his name, more blood drives were held over several weekends. Finally, even Claymore, with a little prompting, agreed to donate. His first sight of the needle would live in infamy.

"Th-that's an awfully big ne-needle," he stammered, aware of the invisible eyes on him that made escape impossible.

"Oh, buck up, Mr. Gregg," Dr. Avery scolded as she rolled up his sleeve.

By her side, her son, Thom, looked on in fascination. "If Mom does it right, sir, it won't even hurt. I'm going to be a phlebotomist when I grow up," he informed the landlord proudly.

Dr. Avery paused. "When'd you decide this?"

Thom looked thoughtful. "Just now."

Despite the child's reassuring words, Claymore still fainted.

More fund raising events followed — bringing forth a bake sale, a car wash and a dance-a-thon to raise funds for the family. June, however, began badly. A regularly scheduled trip to the doctor for Billy brought the news that his white-cell count was up again, and that a more rigorous regimen of treatments would be needed, which meant no more 'mascoting' for Billy for a while. Jonathan, however, remained undaunted and hopeful when Billy assured him that this was typical for leukemia, and he had no intention of giving up or giving in. In between the league games, which were now into the playoffs, Jonathan continued his unflagging support of his friend.

Right before the final round of playoffs, Billy was stricken with a late spring cold. It was hard to tell who were the most distressed, his parents, whose nerves were frayed beyond belief, Billy, or Jon. The little boy had a hard time understanding that it was just too risky to Billy's now even frailer immune system for their daily visits to continue.

XXX

"Now, Jonathan..." Claymore instructed as he drove the boy home from their out-of-town playoff victory, "be sure and tell Old Spook-face that I was not mean to you at all. I was even nice. Didn't I get you a soda during the game?"

"Yes, sir," Jonathan nodded.

"And you played very well, too," Claymore complimented.

"I don't think he's in the car with us, sir," Jonathan said.

Claymore frowned. "Are you sure? Well, you did play well, anyway. And we'll just forget that I yelled at you, once, a little bit. I was overly excited about the game and nervous, and —"

"Yes, sir," Jonathan cut him off. With relief, he saw Gull Cottage was no more than what would be half a block away in the city.

"And here we are!" Claymore declared jovially. "Excellent game, Jonathan. Ta — ta!"

Still riding high on his win, Jonathan ran up the flagstone walk and threw open the door.

"Mom, Candy, Martha! We won!" he hollered.

When Carolyn, trailed by Candy, Martha, Scruffy, and the Captain's crew members came from various parts of the house to meet him, the boy's enthusiasm waned. He could see immediately that something was terribly wrong.

"That's wonderful, honey," Carolyn smiled feebly. "You need to come in and sit down."

"What is it?" Jonathan demanded, not budging.

"Jon, it — it's Billy," Carolyn replied sorrowfully.

Jonathan stiffened. In spite of Billy shortening his name, his mother had never called him 'Jon' before. Something was wrong. "What is it?" he asked, tensely.

"Jonathan, honey, not long after you left, Billy... his cold got worse. He started having trouble breathing, and his parents took him to Skeldale General…"

"Let's go," Jonathan demanded.

"Sweetie, he's in ICU, and not allowed any visitors outside of immediate family," Carolyn gently broke the news. "I spoke to Mrs. Lemoyne. He's not expected to last the weekend."

Sean cleared his throat reflexively, and then added gruffly, "That's where the Captain is. He can be there for ye, lad, invisibly."

To the shattered little boy, their words seemed far off, barely registering as he stood in shock. Then, anger and pain blended into the shock as whirling thoughts played across his countenance. Renewed anger at Danny and Jane Shoemaker made him pull away from the soft touch of his mother's hand. "It's not fair! He tried so hard, but — he gave up, didn't he? Because of all the mean people. But he can't let them beat him. He can't. _He can't."_

Jonathan's entire face quivered under the strain of holding back tears. Seeing this, Candy, very quietly, said, "It's okay. Crying doesn't mean you're a sissy."

Yet, until he reached the living room, practically falling onto the sofa, Jonathan didn't give in. Then, the dam broke and he began to sob as Carolyn and Candy came to sit with him on either side. Scruffy, disturbed by the unusual sound, or sensing his master's upset, jumped up and tried to get around the two females to lick Jon's face.

Martha reached over and gathered the little dog into her arms, where he squirmed impatiently.

"It's not right. Billy's good and people like Danny Shoemaker are mean, so why does Billy have to die and…" Jon broke off, knowing it'd be wrong to wish even the Shoemaker brat dead.

"I know," Carolyn murmured comfortingly, stroking her son's fuzzy head. "I know."

"May I say something?" Lord Dashire asked, drifting over closer to the couch. When Carolyn nodded, he went on, "Jon, I know you're hurting, and perhaps this won't help that. But you are really sad for you, not for Billy. He's had a lot of bad days, you know, and has been in much pain." The ghost paused. "Dying isn't so awful, especially when you have been sick for some time. Trust me. I know this all too well. It's a great relief for the lethargy and pain to end. It took me weeks of illness to die, and there were many days I prayed for it to end." His gaze was focused elsewhere now. "But, even if Billy does not become a ghost like us, then it's not the end. The first time I saw a spirit was when my wife died, about ten years before I did. I was sitting beside her bed and suddenly, I could see a very young woman superimposed over her. She looked at me, smiled, whispered that she loved me, and then, I saw her go into a brilliant light. I'd never seen anyone with more joy on their face than she before that. Shortly after that, Danny and Sean began to appear to me." He shrugged a little. "I am fairly certain that what she went to was a far better life than any of us, presently alive in the strictest sense or not, experience. I'm sure Billy will go there too, lad."

If anything, Jon cried harder, but each of them knew this was also necessary.

XXX

When the call from Mrs. Lemoyne came, Daniel had immediately said he would go. However, since he knew that Jonathan would need support when he heard the news, and not even a ghost could be in two places at the same time, he summoned the crew.

Now, the seaman's spirit kept vigil with the little boy's parents as the hours slipped past and Billy grew weaker. Clearly, both his father and mother were beyond exhausted, fighting the sheer weariness that tugged at them despite their determined desire to not abandon their posts.

Shortly after sundown, Daniel became aware of movement near the bed. He walked over to the boy's side in time to see his soul sit up. He tried to pull away from his feeble body as it slipped into a coma, but it wasn't quite time for that. Then, he looked over at Daniel. The boy who'd first run into Gull Cottage had returned.

"What's happening? Am I — dead?" He frowned. "You're Jonathan's mom's friend, Mister Alexander, aren't you?"

"No, you aren't quite gone, yet, lad," Daniel answered, tugging his ear on reflex. "But 'alive' might be the wrong word to use also." Tilting his head, the ghost asked, "How did you recognize me?"

"You look like you always have. Are you supposed to look different? I know you and those other three guys wear strange clothes, but you were all nice, so I figured adults can just be kinda goofy."

Daniel paused to consider this information. _I'm sure Carolyn would tell me if my disguise — and the others' were not working. Martha Grant certainly would! Hmm. Well, this was not the time to think on that_. "I am supposed to look a bit different than what you have seen, Billy. Lord Dashire, Sean, Tris, and I all died about a hundred years ago, give or take a few. I'm the spirit of Daniel Gregg, and I've haunted the Muirs since they moved in; the others were members of my crew, and visit the family often. We don't advertise our status, however."

"Cool. I'll keep — I would've kept your secret. Guess it's too late, huh?" The boy sighed.

"I fear so, lad. You put up a good fight, but death comes to everyone," Daniel smiled ruefully.

The boy's head hung. "I tried really hard, but I got so tired. Will I be a ghost now?"

"I don't know. I think you're just somewhere between life and death now," Daniel admitted. "Perhaps you could go either way, at this point."

Billy frowned deeper. "I'm sick of being sick." He looked up at the ghost, asking for something. "I feel better now. I don't want to not feel better again."

"I can understand that. If you are ready, there is no shame in moving on."

Billy frowned in concentration, and then looked over at where his father was fighting off sleep. His mother had been sent to get something to eat for the first time since breakfast. "They could rest then, couldn't they?"

Daniel nodded.

"Tell Jon that he was the best buddy a guy could have, huh?" Billy asked in a soft, insistent voice.

"Of course," Daniel promised.

"I'm scared, sir," the little boy said in a quavering voice. "I'm not sure what's next."

Daniel sat on the bed's edge. "This is not the end. It's just moving from now to forever." Daniel let his mind rove back over the deathbeds he'd witnessed since becoming a spirit. "As the curtain closes behind you, there is a bright land just beyond the horizon of this life, where all that is beautiful here pales by comparison. It's a land where the only tears are those of joy. Shores of pearl go on forever under an endless sky of blue. It's a land that's so distant you can never reach it, yet only a heartbeat away. Someone is there waiting for you, who loves you."

Billy squinted at a point Daniel could not see. "I — I think I see it."

"And with you goes a bit of everyone who has loved you," Daniel continued in a warm, strong voice.

Billy swallowed. He was glowing like a star. "I think I'm leaving now, sir. Thank you, and thank the others. Especially Jon, but all of you were great, even Mister Gregg, sometimes."

Daniel looked a bit taken aback by that last request, but nodded and watched at the boy's spirit grew infinitely brilliant before vanishing. As it did, the monitor buzzed loudly, announcing that one more soul had made the journey Home.


End file.
